James Blackshaw
Love Is The Plan, The Plan Is Death

Leaving solely to one's instrument the communication with the listener is never an easy task. However, when faced with one of the few most legitimate "heirs" of the so-called "primitivist" guitarists (John Fahey and Robbie Basho in primis), it's not surprising that such musical communication, with only the aid of the now nearly clichéd string instrument, succeeds.

First and foremost, it's right to outline a quick profile of the artist for those hearing about him for the first time: James Blackshaw, English, just over thirty and already with various recording experiences behind him, is a master of 12-string guitar fingerstyle. His most direct influences, besides the already mentioned Fahey and Basho, span much of the guitar folk, both American and otherwise, especially focusing on Leo Kottke, a pioneer of the 12-string.

This latest album, however, marks a turning point from the artist's previous works (among these, the worth noting "The Cloud of Unknowing" from 2007): Blackshaw decides to abandon his trusty 12-string to explore the territory of the classical guitar and to delve into that of the piano. The result is a pleasant oscillation between Spanish-like echoes and subdued romanticism, without ever betraying the typically fahey-esque, star-spangled folk spirit.

The album opens with the title track, named after a science fiction story by writer Alice Sheldon; 8 minutes of fingerpicking at times dreamy and at times almost unsettling, with occasional piano splashes here and there, introduce the listener to a musical journey of intimate tones. This journey materializes in "Her Smoke Rose Up Forever," where what might appear from the title as a scene of daily life (could it be cigarette smoke?) is painted with a faster arpeggio, as if to depict smoke elegantly drifting in the air.

On this same delicate trail follow "A Momentary Taste of Being," an interesting yet charming bucolic introspection, and "We Who Stole the Dream," certainly the song on the album that best deserves the classical guitar. Definitely less convincing, but still pleasant, are the two piano pieces on the album: "And I Have Come Upon This Place by Lost Ways" is a bitter ballad featuring the vocal contribution of Geneviève Beaulieu from Menace Ruine, while "The Snows Are Melted, The Snows Are Gone" is a somewhat anonymous waltz that reprises the calm sound characteristic of the album.

In conclusion, Blackshaw demonstrates once again his exceptional compositional talent, which he decides to extend to other instruments besides the 12-string. Such experimentation, while in some respects should be considered successful (the classical guitar tracks are nothing short of admirable), in others slightly diminishes the overall impact of the product, which gains in verbosity but nonetheless remains of fine craftsmanship.